


Fever Dream

by Night_Minx



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Minx/pseuds/Night_Minx
Summary: First ever faux statement! Please leave comments!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Fever Dream

[Statement of Rowan, pertaining to their reoccurring dreams]

Have you ever had that one dream that just niggles at you? Like an itch in your subconscious that even after years of actually having the dream, it still claws away softly in the back of your mind, like someone slowly but steadily tapping out a message in morse code? I have. I used to be a very sick kid you see, I would have terrible fevers, unexplainable as the doctors would say, but so bad I’d only be a few degrees off organ failure. It wasn’t a pleasant experience as I’m sure you could have guessed, but it was the fever hallucinations and fever dreams that really got me. There were a few of the standard fair, teeth falling out, being lost, being in school, the typical dreams everyone has, but one really got me. 

I would get sick enough that I would pass out, and when I came to in the dream, I would be in an empty blank white room. It was uncomfortably bright, but despite the lack of any obvious lighting system, it was like a well lit greenhouse. There was no dimensional “end” to the room, its walls being in on themselves, giving the impression from the centre of the room as if you trapped in an egg shaped parabolic room, but as you moved, the “centre” of the room would move alongside you despite it feeling as normal as walking in any other situation. You could walk for hours and hours in one single direction, exhausting yourself from the effort, and still find yourself stuck in the epicentre of the room as if you’d been standing still. 

That would have been bad enough, and it wasn’t pleasant, but the worst part was the passage of time. If it was any other dream you would have “felt” as if you were there for hours although you’d know it was only momentary at most. This was different. It was actual time in that room. One time I found myself in that room, I had decided to count just how long I was in that forsaken space. Eight hours, fifty seven minutes, 23 seconds. I counted each and every moment in that room as it bled away my time from me. The room never had anything in it, no items of furniture, no lights, no heat or cold, nothing more than that blank white space. But each time I found myself in that room, the time I spent there would stretch out further, like it was claiming me more and more, moment by moment until I was the room’s, and not the world’s.

The last time I found myself in that space, I noticed the scenery had changed, with grey white wisps in the air, like party streamers or confetti hanging there in the air in suspended animation, twirling and spiralling above my head, just out of arm's reach. That's when I noticed that I had been claimed, wisps of grey emanating from the hollow holes where my arms should have been. The same way a loose thread can pull and unravel a pillow, one single thread was being pulled from each of my forearms, whittling me down to my forearm, with the passage of time eating down to my elbow. As a child of 8 years old, I was understandably distraught by this and demanded my parents try to do something to help, not wanting to be eaten any more. Eventually I ended up at a hypnotist’s office and they set a block in place so that I can’t fall back into it. I still remember it though, and I can still hear it rap tap tapping away at the back of my subconscious, beckoning me forth, a ringing bell that cannot be unrung.

[Statement Ends]


End file.
